


turn the heat up

by orphan_account



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Humor, M/M, bets happen, blame mingyu, bowling, they go blowing to relax finally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-18 17:21:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21530518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: of course wonwoo deals with the consequences of bowling game bet- thanks to mingyu.(or maybe he really reaps the benefits).
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Wen Jun Hui | Jun
Kudos: 44





	turn the heat up

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bvu1VUzivn4  
> this performance unit song and dance tho.

cultivating a spirit of healthy competition doesn't mean anything if your opponents are kind of shitty; mingyu and minghao talk a good game, but they can barely knock down five pins on a good turn, and seungcheol keeps sending gutter balls down the lane.

"you guys are really bad at this," wonwoo remarks after his third strike.

mingyu rolls his eyes, elbows him in the stomach. "sorry we don't all have perfect form."

"anyway, none of us are as bad as poor junhui," minghao says, glancing to their right.

the rest of seventeen is slogging through a pitiful game one lane over. every single one of junhui's bowling balls spins straight into the gutter seconds after it leaves his hands. he just blinks and shrugs each time, plops himself back down in one of the plastic red seats next to hansol when his turn's over.

"what the hell," he hears jihoon say, amused. "are you even trying?"

the lap-dance thing is naturally mingyu's idea. the rest of the bowling alley's empty—they'd booked the entire place just for this, and mingyu throws the bet out after the second round, around midnight, half an hour before they have to go.

"it's boring," he says, eyes lit up with glee, "unless there's some sort of incentive."

wonwoo thinks there are probably a myriad of better rewards he could've chosen, but keeps quiet. jisoo latches onto it because he hasn't been losing, and jeonghan pushes it through the rest of the way.

"it's settled, then. whoever loses has to give someone a lap-dance." junhui looks a little less lazy, more motivated, when he's up to roll; he manages to knock two pins over on his first try.

"progress," seungkwan calls, "woo!". and junhui flushes. seungkwan's laugh echoes over wonwoo's shoulder as he steps up to the lane.

"you're a good dancer," jisoo's telling him. "you should be good at this."

"dancing and bowling aren't the same thing, hyung," junhui mumbles.

wonwoo slides his fingers into the light blue ball and hefts it in his hands, the solid weight rolling around in his grasp. he pulls his arm back, feet tracing familiar steps toward the dotted line, and then momentum's driving his arm forward on the upswing, plastic clacking against smooth wood as the ball hits the lane. it whistles down the rest of the way, hits the head pin dead-on, and the impact sends the other nine scattering back into the pit, disappearing out of sight as wonwoo lifts himself out of his follow-through position.

"you're like a fucking machine," mingyu marvels over the cheering. minghao slaps him on the back and grabs the next ball.

wonwoo wins. wonwoo stealthily comes in five points behind him, and the drop-off after that's huge. junhui loses, of course, but it's a close call: seungcheol only ends up ahead of him by a ten-point margin, and jisoo by twelve. wonwoo hangs back as seokmin and soonyoung grab at junhui and needle him about the bet. he figures junhui'll pick someone who'd be able to laugh it off easily, like chan.

he doesn't expect junhui to wade through the others and push a hand on wonwoo's shoulder, eyes dark and uncertain, tongue flicking out to lick his lips. wonwoo blinks and sinks obediently into the plastic scoop chair behind him. someone—mingyu, probably—whistles loudly to his right over the tittering laughter.

junhui hovers for a moment.

"you don't have to," wonwoo hears himself saying, faint and far-off, but then something in junhui's gaze slams down, shuttering his trepidation. the corner of his mouth twists up and he slides into wonwoo's lap, leg muscles cocked and tense over wonwoo's thighs.

a hand comes around to grab a loose handful of wonwoo's hair and pull his head back as junhui's hips shoot forward. wonwoo's half-hard in his pants already and the grinding doesn't help, junhui staring at him through his dark brown bangs, eyes going half-lidded, mouth dropping open as he exhales with a dull whine.

a couple of people in the background are actually beat-boxing now, the fucking dicks. junhui arches his spine and tosses his head, shoulders thrown back, their chests rubbing against each other. wonwoo's throat clicks drily, fingers clenching in the mesh material of junhui's tank shirt as his hands settle on junhui's waist.

junhui dips his head in close to wonwoo's ear, puff of air dragging across the shell. "you look really hot when you're doing something you're good at," he mumbles, and it comes out almost shy, words half-caught in his chest from the exertion.

arousal stirs deep in the pit of his abdomen, hot and throbbing. wonwoo's pretty sure he's about to let out a series of really embarrassing noises when junhui abruptly levers himself off and away. wonwoo blinks slowly. junhui's slouching toward the others again, hands stuffed in his pockets. jisoo and jeonghan are laughing.

"satisfied?" junhui mutters at them, carding a hand through his hair. soonyoung slings an arm over his shoulder.

wonwoo's hands fall into his lap as he tries to settle his breathing. mingyu's face drifts into view, wide-eyed and curious. "he got really into it, huh?" he says, teeth flashing as he grins.

wonwoo carefully adjusts the front of his pants. out of the corner of his eye he can see the managers being let in through a side door.

"yeah," wonwoo says, swallowing hard. "he did."


End file.
